For the Clockmaker's Heart
by MissMarquin
Summary: In which a clockmaker falls in love with the fae that he finds in an antique clock. Really, what is Yuri to do? Otayuri, AU.


_A/N: I'm a sucker for a good romance prompt._

* * *

"_Yurio_-"

"That's not my fucking name, you pig," Yuri snarled in response, trudging through dark leaves and roots that littered the ground. Yuri didn't make a habit of exploring the Faewood, but he'd make an exception if it meant escaping from a certain, dark-haired asian man that-

"Yuri," the other man replied, his tone tired of arguing. _A man who didn't know when to just let shit go_. Yuri scowled deeply, refusing to acknowledge him. Instead he paused, looking around him, regarding the trees that were so tall that the sky disappeared. The Faewood wasn't for the faint of heart. It was a thing of made up stories- the kind that you told children to scare them into behaving. Yuri snorted at that.

"I know you don't want to talk to me," Yuuri Katsuki said, sidling up next to him. _No shit_, Yuri _never_ wanted to talk to him- "I just wanted to make sure that you are alright."

Yuri sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. For all his bravado, he didn't actually hate the man. It more like an extreme aggravation, something that could be looked over from time to time. "I'm fine," he finally bit out.

"Yuri, I don't think you are-"

"You aren't my father," Yuri snapped, "so stop acting like it."

Katsuki frowned slightly, letting out his own sigh. "I'm your _friend_," he stressed, pressing a comforting hand against Yuri's shoulder. "And I miss him too."

The brief moment of civility between them snapped, and Yuri yanked from the other man's grasp. "All I wanted to do was to have a picnic with him." _At his grave_ were the unspoken words that floated between them.

"I know." Katsuki's voice was quiet and patient. Understanding. Part of Yuri fucking hated it, and the other found comfort in it.

"And fucking _JJ_-" Yuri let out a frustrated grunt. "The things that he said… I want to punch his fucking face," Yuri finished.

At that, Katsuki flashed a smile, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'm pretty sure your grandfather wouldn't have liked that."

Yuri allowed his lips to twist into a bare smirk. "No, but he would have understood it." Silence stretched between them, as Yuri fiddled with the strap of his pack. "Thanks, Pig."

Katsuki's nose crinkled slightly at the loose term of endearment, but waved it away. "Let's keep walking. Perhaps we'll find a nice place to lay out the picnic?"

Yuri rolled his eyes, but held out his hand for the other man to lead the way.

* * *

The Plisetsky's had been clockmakers since practically the beginning of time, and Yuri was no exception. Unlike, his grandfather though, Yuri didn't have an artistic bone in his body. He could fix _any_ broken clock that was set before him, but he was lost when it came to carving and painting the wood the parts were set in.

Yuri had been a kid, when his grandfather had brought Yuuri Katsuki home with him, a nervous bundle of glasses and dark hair from the Far East.

_I saw his work while I was traveling_, Nikolai had intoned. _His art will suit you_.

And so, they were slated to work together. As Yuri grew out of his apprenticeship, he found that his grandfather had been right. There was a lot wrong with _The Pig_, but it wasn't his eye for clean lines. Despite his smallish frame, his hands were wide and calloused, well attuned to carving and shaping wood.

Combined with Yuri's ability to practically _speak_ to machinery and clock parts, they were a match made in heaven. Together, they created work that was highly sought after across the entire province. Nikolai had retired, watching them take over the family business with pride.

His grandfather had been everything to Yuri. Sure, he could reluctantly call Katsuki a _friend_, but Nikolai had been his _only_ family. The day that he had died, so had Yuri. He'd always been loud and brash, but now he was just angry, _so fucking angry_. And apparently prone to violent outbursts.

Thankfully, he'd run away from JJ before causing a scene, ducking into the Faewood without a thought. He'd known the priss of a man wouldn't follow him, but he hadn't counted on Katsuki to do so. Despite their little spat earlier, they trudged through the underbrush with an ease between them.

"It was the wrong place to conduct business, Yuri," Katsuki finally said.

"JJ is an asshole," Yuri retorted, kicking at a branch. "What did you _think_ he'd do?"

"I _know_ you've been avoiding him-"

"Have you seen the commission he wants?" Yuri hissed. "It's gaudy, even for him."

"He's a merchant lord," Katsuki reminded him, knowing that JJ's taste was quite obvious.

"You can't tell me that you want to make it," Yuri grumbled.

"I'll make just about anything, for a price," the shorter man said. "Even _that_."

"I can't-" Yuri stopped dead in his step, motioning forward. "Is that a _house_?"

Katsuki followed the motion, his head cocking to the side. So it wasn't _unheard_ of that people might settle in the Faewood, but he'd never seen such a residence. It was a small cottage, with a wrap around porch. Half of the roof was falling in though, and judging by the general state of disrepair- it'd been empty for a long time.

"Yuri, I don't think-"

"Shush, Pig. Let's go check it out."

Katsuki tinted pink at the name, biting his lip. Yuri sighed, knowing what was coming. "That's a terrible idea," the other man said.

"I'm not known for my _good ideas_," Yuri said, before stepping down the path and towards the house.

"Yuri!" Katsuki practically yelled, but was promptly ignored. Yuri could hear him as he picked his way down the path after him.

The moment Yuri's foot found the porch step, the entire thing groaned under his weight, causing him to pause. Katsuki gave him a look of warning, which caused Yuri to roll his eyes. "It's _fine_," he said, putting his full weight down- and promptly _through_ the step. He yelped slightly, trying to catch his balance.

"Yuri, this is a terrible idea," Katsuki said for the second time.

Yuri pulled his foot from the rotten wood, testing another step. It was firm beneath him. "I need a distraction," he said. "This is a great one." Really, anything to pull his mind from the anniversary of his grandfather's death, and the absurdity that was JJ as a whole.

"You really should be more cautious," Katsuki sighed.

"You can't tell me that you actually believe those stories," Yuri replied, halfway up the front steps. He looked back down to where the pig stood, his arms crossed.

"_No_," Katsuki said, his cheeks flaring up pink with embarrassment. "I'm just… well- you never know, right?"

Yuri snorted. "Well, either you follow, or you stay out here- and who knows what's out here, am I right?." He practically watched the color drain from the other man's face, and then laughed when Katsuki moved to climb to the porch after him.

They tested for patches of rot, but everything seemed sound, aside from the first step that had caught them. The handle on the front door was rusted with time, but Yuri managed to wrench it open.

Despite the building half-falling down, the inside was in order- no one had ever come and sacked it. Furniture was neatly placed and there were personal items still about, everything covered in a thick layer of dust and leaves.

"Makes you wonder," Katsuki said, leaning over a table, dusting it off with his shirt sleeve. "Who lived out here?"

"Probably someone who wanted to be left alone." Yuri got it, really he did. Sometimes you just hit a point where you wanted _nothing_ to do with others. Despite his annoyance of Katsuki's nervous presence, he was the only person he remotely tolerated. And though he'd never admit it, he'd actually miss the guy, if he ever decided to leave.

Yuri watched as the Pig reached into a cupboard, pulling out a delicate piece of china. "I've never seen anything so fine," the man said, running his fingers along the porcelain cup. "This craftsmanship is definitely unique."

Yuri opened his mouth to reply, when something else caught his eye. With a few steps, he'd crossed the room to the corner, reaching out to press his fingers against the clock. It wasn't very large, really. Short and a little squat, about the size of his cat Potya. It was made from a slick black wood, corners and edges carved with intricate perfection. Yuri reached out, his fingers brushing along the tarnished gold leaf rubbed along its lines.

"This is beautiful," Katsuki said, from his side. He'd followed him into the corner, after tucking the teacup into his own knapsack. His fingers followed Yuri's reaching out over the polished wood. "I've never seen wood like this," he murmured.

"Is it stained?" Yuri asked. He hadn't either, this dark hue. It was as pitch as a moonless night.

"No, I don't think so," Katsuki said. "If it were, these grainlines would look different. They'd carry the color with a flatness. Instead, there's dimension in the grooves. The color shifts with the cuts."

Yuri hummed at that, his fingers pinching a sharp edge, before flitting downward towards the beveled glass door that housed the gears. So far the hands hadn't moved, but he wasn't surprised- there hadn't been a person around to wind the thing properly. He pulled at the little handle, but it refused to budge. _Odd_.

"I want to keep this," Yuri said quietly, after another moment of admiration.

Katsuki blinked at that, before looking around. "Well, it's not as if anyone will miss it," he said dryly. He then patted his pack, reminding Yuri that he was taking his own souvenir. "You'll have to come back for it though."

Yuri hummed at that, moving to pick it up. "I think I would get lost trying to find this place again. If it's not- _Oh_," he breathed. The clock barely weighed a thing, and he hadn't expected that, nearly toppling over with the extra force he'd thrown behind his arms. "It weighs practically nothing."

Katsuki raised an eyebrow at that. "Yuri, that's at least thirty pounds worth of wood, and I'm not even considering the gearworks and gold-"

Yuri practically threw it into the man's hands, and he struggled to grasp at it, only to find that Yuri was right. "Well that's… er, strange," he said, passing it back to Yuri. "What will you do with it?"

"Fix it, obviously, since the dumb thing doesn't work."

"Perhaps a project would be good for you," Katsuki said.

He was right, as always. Yuri _needed_ a distraction, and this was clearly a one-of-a-kind piece. Still, he had to wonder, what was it doing _here_? The home was littered with unique furniture and trade works of highly talented craftsman.

Yuri turned to the pig, only to find him looking at his wristwatch. "It's getting late," he said. "I don't want to get stuck here after dark. Let's go home, Yuri."

_Yeah, home_.

* * *

It was a familiar motion. He gripped a small screwdriver in his long fingers, twisting it gently as he tuned the tumblers in the clock. Delicate work, as always, requiring a refined and steady hand. The gears in the clock were finicky, but it wouldn't be the first time that the innards of a timepiece proved to be stubborn.

It had taken nearly a day just to get the gearbox open, and he was _still_ working on the glass door on the front. It remained stubborn yet, refusing to budge.

Katsuki leaned over his shoulders, watching as his wrist twisted with the motion of his tool. "That doesn't look like gold… or silver, for that matter. What are these parts made of?"

"It's nothing I've ever seen," Yuri finally admitted. "And the lower door still won't budge. Honestly, if I believed in fairytales, I'd consider this to be made by the fae."

Katsuki raised his eyebrows at that. "Well, I mean-"

"None of that," Yuri interrupted. "You know it's impossible." The other man frowned at that, and Yuri waved the thought away. "It's just an old clock, with tight hinges. I'll eventually get it open."

"Well, when you're done with that, let me take a look at the leafing, alright? I'll spruce it up the best that I can." And with that, the man left Yuri behind.

_Grandfather would have loved this piece,_ Yuri thought, swapping his screwdriver for a tiny little hammer. He used the backside of it to pull out an old screw. It was unique for sure, with it's black wood and golden highlights. Even the carving was exquisite, the corners flared expertly. Katsuki was good, but this was _perfection_.

Yuri thumbed the tiny little screw before throwing on his glass to get a better look at it. They weren't needed for everyday use, but he was particularly farsighted when it came down to things. He hummed, picking up a screwdriver, turning it over in his palm. The pig was right, it wasn't made of gold or silver. He carefully set it back into the hole, screwing it back in.

Once he deemed this particular work done, he sat back, cracking his knuckles gently. There _was_ a spot for a turnkey, and he found one that seemed like it would fit. Sticking it in, he wound the clock several times, before pulling away.

It had been stubborn- gears bent with age, full of dust and leaves. But now that it was properly cleaned, reset and oiled, the gears shifted and began to move. And then a minute passed, and a clock hand ticked with it. Yuri let out a breath, smiling slightly as he eased off his glasses.

It wasn't _fixed_, of course. He still hadn't gotten the glass door open, to look at the pendulums proper, and it wasn't likely to keep time well until he did. But the gears moved without locking up, and it was a good start.

Not bad for a day's work.

* * *

When Yuri woke the next morning, and shuffled into his workshop tiredly, he didn't notice that that clock had _moved_.

He set about making a pot of coffee, rubbing at his eyes tiredly before he yawned. The kettle screamed, and he poured the water, waiting for the drink to brew. And then he took his mug, sat in his chair and placed his glasses on his nose. Lifting the mug to his lips, he-

"_Hey_." Yuri's hand paused slightly, and he blinked tiredly. The voice was masculine, but sounded far away. "Down here- _no_, to the left- _your_ left. Gods, humans are useless."

Yuri cocked his head to the side, only to find a tiny man standing on his work table. The clock, which had originally been more central, was now pushed over, laying on its side. He blinked slowly, before looking at his coffee and taking a long sip. "It's way too fucking early to be hallucinating shit-"

"Are you the one who fixed it?"

That caused Yuri to look back to him, his eyes narrowing. "Fixed what?"

"The clock, of course. What _else_ would I be talking about?"

Yuri took another sip and then leaned forward to get a better look. The man was only about half a foot tall, able to fit in his hand easily. He was scruffy-looking, his long black hair matted and a wild beard overtaking his face. Gray eyes peered back at him, a scowl worn plainly on his face. Yuri reached out to poke at him, and the tiny man responded by smacking away his fingertip.

_He was real. _Yuri pulled back, shaking out his hand slightly as he stared. "Of course I fixed it," he replied.

"_Why_."

"I'm a clockmaker," Yuri said, as though it were obvious. "It's what I do."

"_It's what you-"_ the tiny man started, before stopping abruptly and pinching the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath.

"What are you, even?" Yuri asked, moving to poke at him again.

The man dodge his hand, batting at it once more. "Isn't it obvious? I'm a _fae_."

Yuri blinked at that, and then threw his head back and laughed. He _had_ to have been asleep. "That's ridiculous," Yuri replied. "Faeries aren't real-"

"_Fae_," the man snapped, frowning.

Yuri frowned right back. "What's the difference?" As far as _he_ knew, the terms were interchangeable.

The man didn't bother a response, instead changing the subject. "Last I checked, this clock was hidden in a faerie house-"

"So you admit that you're a faerie?"

"_Faeries_ are entirely different than what I am," the man snapped.

Yuri hummed at that, his fingers curled tightly around his mug of coffee. He still wasn't entirely convinced that this wasn't some wild fever dream. The debate of the differences of a _fae_ and a _faerie_ wasn't helping, either.

"How did you even _get_ here?" Yuri finally asked. From the way that the other man rolled his eyes, it was apparent that it should have been obvious. It wasn't, or maybe Yuri was just still _that tired_. He took another sip of his coffee and blinked blearily.

"The clock," the man said, waving at it. "You fixed it."

"We've already established that," Yuri said boredly.

"Which broke my curse," the man continued. "Well, _sort-of_. There's more to it than just that."

"Which broke your-" Yuri paused, his expression pinching slightly. "What do you mean _curse_?"

The man crossed his arms over his chest. "The idea of a curse is pretty cut and dry," he said sarcastically. "I pissed someone off, and I was bound to this clock forever."

Yuri considered that for a moment and then said, "Forever is a long time."

The fae rolled his eyes at that. "I mean, it's only forever. It could be worse."

Yuri wasn't sure it could be, though. "You said something about _there being more to it_."

The fae sighed at that. "My curse is only partially broken."

"How is it fully broken?" Yuri was admittedly, curious.

"It doesn't matter," the other man said with a sigh, pressing his fingers against his forehead. "My curse was designed as impossible to break, therefore there's no point in dwelling on it."

"Impossible, huh?" Yuri asked, sipping at his coffee again. "Well, whoever cast it on you did a terrible job. Didn't take much work to break what I did." At that, the far paused, pulling his hand down and regarding Yuri carefully. Yuri responded with a shrug, before placing his mug down and sliding it toward the man.

"Want any coffee?"

* * *

_A/N: Why make Yuri the fae, when Otabek is a cooler choice?_


End file.
